


Coming Back

by Little_Cinch



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Gen, Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-06
Updated: 2014-01-06
Packaged: 2018-07-15 11:57:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7221439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_Cinch/pseuds/Little_Cinch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carol has trouble coping with what she's done. This is a dark fic written after 4x05 and before 4x08, so it's AU now, but spoilers up until Internment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Too Far Gone

**Author's Note:**

> **I wrote this after 4x05 (Internment) but before 4x08 (Too Far Gone) aired, so it's wildly AU at this point. It's dark. It also got abandoned after the mid-season finale, so it's just a snapshot of two imagined moments after Daryl brings Carol back to the prison after her banishment for killing Karen and David. Two chapters only. Rating is probably overkill, but it's for language and heavy themes.**
> 
>  
> 
> **Disclaimer: Not mine. No sue.**

They stood side by side in silence, leaning on the railing of the perch in B-block. The group had decided Carol would be locked safely away from Tyreese and everyone else until the council could make a decision about her fate. Judging from the heated arguing during that first meeting, Daryl didn't expect a decision to be made any time soon, so at his first opportunity he'd brought her some food and an extra blanket. He'd grabbed a book for her at the last second, knowing how empty the prison block would feel with just her in it. She'd accepted his offerings with a whispered thanks and lowered eyes. Her submissive manner made him uneasy. Gone were her twinkling eyes and sassy smiles. She seemed far more like the timid mouse from the quarry than the fierce woman she'd become over the last year. The terrible sadness that weighed on her after Sophia died seemed to have returned. He never thought he'd ever _want_ to hear her call him pookie, but right about now, he'd welcome it.

"I need you to hear something." Carol raised her head and straightened her shoulders. She looked into his face with that open, soulful gaze of hers. "I've said it before, but I need you to really hear me and understand it. OK?"

Daryl squinted at her cautiously. "A'right."

She hesitated, then spoke softly.

"Back at the beginning of all this, back at the quarry when we first met, I was afraid of you. I was afraid of everything then, really, and that included you. Later, when Sophia was lost, I didn't understand why you looked for her when no one else would. I didn't understand it, but I was grateful. You never gave up on her, and you wouldn't let me give up, either. But...she died."

He tensed as his heart constricted in his chest. It killed him that he hadn't been able to bring back that little girl. Her eyes pierced his soul as she continued, words coming faster now – more sure.

"It wasn't your fault. You were the only reason she might have had a chance out there at all. It wasn't your fault you couldn't save her. And that day at the barn, when she stepped through that door, you saved me. And after that, somehow you became my strength. And you just kept saving me – you've saved my life more times than I can count, but you saved _me_ as well. You kept me sane and gave me strength enough to keep going."

Her eyes burned into him. His insides churned and he felt his eye twitch. She moved forward. A lifetime's habit made him flinch back just as far. Normally her closeness wouldn't bother him, but now her intensity made him anxious and triggered all his old reflexes.

"And now you've found me. Again. You always find me. You always come for me, and I'm so grateful for that. For you."

She took another step toward him, and he retreated again. He felt his back bump up against the side railing of the perch. She reached up and stroked her narrow hand down his cheek. His face grew hot – he felt the flush creeping up his neck. She'd always pushed his boundaries a little, in a teasing, flirtatious way, but this was different. _She_ was different. He couldn't move, couldn't think.

"Rick told you what I did, didn't he? Before you came looking for me?" A quick, sharp nod yes. "But you had faith in me, that I'm still a person worth coming after, even with what I did. That belief in me says much more about _you_ than it does about me."

She moved closer still. He felt the whisper of her clothes touching his, though she didn't quite press against him. He wanted to run, but he couldn't break away from the heat of her eyes.

"It's important to me that you hear this and really believe it. You are a good man. A brave, caring, kind, wonderful, GOOD man. You're everything to me. You're my friend – my best friend – but you're so much more than that, too. You're my strength...my heart. I love you."

The hand on his cheek slipped to the back of his neck. Her other hand reached for his waist. Daryl's stomach flipped as she pulled herself close and pressed her lips to his. They were gentle and soft as she kissed him, but firm, brooking no argument. And before his brain properly registered what was happening, she pulled back. Her blue eyes met his again, but the feverish intensity was gone.

She gently stroked his cheek again and smiled. She looked so sweet but terribly sad. "I love you, Daryl Dixon. And I'm so sorry. But I wanted you to know. And I want you to know that none of this is your fault."

She stepped away from him then, smile fading. She looked down, squeezing her eyes tight. He felt a tug at his waist and suddenly everything slipped into terrible, razor-sharp slow motion as he realized what was happening.

She had pulled the pistol from his belt and was raising it toward her own temple. Fear shot through him like electricity.

"NO!" The shout ripped from his chest without thought. He lunged forward, hands snapping out to catch her wrist, pushing up and away as her finger squeezed the trigger.

The shot rang out painfully within the concrete walls of the cell block. His ears sang, though he wasn't sure if it was from the gunfire or from his blood surging in fear. In the pause after the shot, Carol's eyes opened again. Realizing she hadn't succeeded, her face contorted in a scream. She struggled then, clawing and jerking at his hands, trying to pull free of him.

Daryl caught both her wrists wrists in one hand, using the other to pry the gun away. He threw it as far down the walkway as he could. He quickly pulled both knives from his belt and sent them after the pistol.

"Noooooooo! NO! You have to let me! I can't do this...NO! PLEEEEASE!"

She struggled so fiercely he nearly lost his grip. He spun her around and pulled her tight against him, trapping her arms against her chest. She howled wordlessly and bucked against him, trying to free herself, but he held her fast.

"What the fuck, Carol? WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT? The fuckin' hell are you trying to do?"

She lashed out with her feet then, kicking back toward his shins. He grunted as she connected solidly just under his left knee. He dropped down, planting them on the ground to prevent her from kicking. But the more he restrained her, the wilder she became. She screamed and thrashed, tried to bite him. The animal howls soon began to give way to sobs – deep, body wracking sobs that made his chest wrench painfully.

He shook hard as he held her down, breath coming harsh and ragged from the fear and adrenaline. Memories of holding her just like this flashed through his head – the heat, the horror, and the scent of sour hay, gunpowder, and death. He held her then as he did now, and his heart broke both for Carol and the lost little girl he'd tried so hard to find.

But now she was in pain, and he didn't understand why.

He spoke softly to her then, crooning gentle nonsense to try to calm them both down. He rocked her and stroked her short, silver curls. The fight went out of her and the bone shaking sobs became hiccuping tears and whimpers.

"Pleeeease, I can't..." she moaned.

"Can't what? I don't understand. You gotta tell me what's goin' on."

"I can't... _do_ it anymore."

Then, as if a dam had burst, the words poured out between gasping breaths.

"It was my fault. After S-Sophia died, I knew it was all my fault because I was too weak to protect her. I couldn't even protect myself. I didn't want to fail anyone ever again so I tried to learn how to be strong. Tried so hard. You helped me and I got stronger. I was so proud – proud to be able to take care of my new family, and proud to be a real person, a strong...person. But it was so hard. I did it, but it was hard to keep up, keep going. I kept on, but it just got harder. And then when Karen and David got sick, there was nothing I could do. The fear came back. I was useless again, and they were in so much pain. Suffering. I tried to help them. I tried to protect us. I tried to take care of all of us even though it meant...killing them." Carol's voice trailed off into tears again.

Daryl waited for her to continue, rocking her gently.

"But it didn't work. I couldn't save anyone. It didn't _matter_ even if it did work because _I killed them_. I killed them with my own hands. And then HE came and said I should look after Sasha because I care about people, but I killed them and he didn't know. It sunk in then, what I'd done. I killed her. And I _b-burned_ her. Oh God, Daryl, I can't do this anymore. Doesn't matter if I'm strong or weak, people _die,_ and it's my fault. It hurts. It hurts, it hurts so much. I'm so sorry – please let me make it stop. Please?" She moaned then, sounding wounded and broken. The pain in her voice was a vice around his heart.

He shifted her then, turning her toward him and gathering her up close – not restraining her anymore. Just comforting. She wrapped her arms around him and pressed her wet face into his chest, fresh tears erupting and soaking his shirt. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and murmured reassurance to her, not knowing what else to do. He felt more lost than he ever had.

A small scuffling sound caught his attention then, and he looked up. Rick, Maggie, and Michonne must have heard the gunshot and come running, but were stopped by the locked cell block door. He hadn't heard them arrive, but judging from their stunned faces, they'd been there long enough to hear most of it. The heavy knot in his belly actually loosened a tiny bit.

Maybe Rick and the others would see she hadn't gone hard. Maybe she could come back from this.


	2. Coming Back

Carol was resting in her cell in B-block. She tried to pretend it was an ordinary day at the prison back before the sickness took so many people. Before she was a murderer. Everything was how it used to be – she was just curling up to catch a quick cat nap before starting her evening chores. But the weight of the silence and the locked cell door pressed on her mind, even when she closed her eyes. The handcuff linking her right wrist to the bed frame was pretty hard to ignore, too.

She rolled onto her back to stare up at the bunk above her. She'd pretend it was a coffin instead.

Someone entered the cell block, footsteps echoing in the empty room. She knew perfectly well who it was – she'd know Daryl's footsteps anywhere. She pulled her ratty blanket up to her ears and feigned sleep.

Keys rattled, and the door slid open. He moved to the head of the bed and settled himself onto the little chair there. He waited.

And waited.

_Well, he can just keep waiting_. She scowled with her eyes closed.

He didn't move. The weight of the locked door had been nothing compared to the weight of his eyes on the top of her head. She resisted the urge to fidget.

It seemed like he had been there for hours, though she knew it could only have been a few minutes. With a hiss, she pushed the blanket off her shoulders and said, "What are you doing?"

"Keepin' an eye on you," he drawled.

She rolled onto her side to glare at him. He smiled his tiny smile. She frowned harder and willed him to go away.

"Council's takin' a break. Thought I'd come check on you."

"Well here I am. Where else would I be?"

He quirked an eyebrow. "Less concerned with where you are than _how_ you are."

The pain that lived in her chest flared sharply. She curled in on herself. Why wouldn't he just leave her alone?

Again he waited. Carol hugged her knees with her free arm, squeezed her eyes closed, and ignored him. And still he waited. As a hunter, he had a great deal of patience, damn the man.

"Dammit, go away!" She felt tears sting her eyes and blinked them back. She couldn't do this again. "Isn't the council waiting for you?"

He shifted the chair over so he was directly in front of her. One hand hesitated, as though he stopped himself from reaching out to her. She probably imagined it. He leaned forward until she couldn't avoid looking in his eyes.

"Tell me how you're feeling." His voice was a soft, but rough command.

She buried her face in her pillow. When she finally spoke, her words were muffled. "Embarrassed. No, make that humiliated. Ashamed." Fire crept into her cheeks as she glared out at him again. "And angry. I'm SO mad at you for stopping me." The tears welled up again, but she refused to let them fall. She didn't want anyone to see her cry ever again.

This time, he did reach for her. His fingers ran gently down her jawline. "Don't give a tinker's damn if you're pissed, as long as you're not hurt."

He bit back anything else he might have said and settled back into his chair. His eyes dropped to his hands in his lap, which had apparently become the most interesting thing in the room. Dammit, everything he did made the guilt worse. She pushed herself up onto an elbow and brushed his knee with her fingertips.

"Look, I'm sorry. I should never have done that to you – it was cruel. I just...Daryl, it hurts so much, I couldn't stand it any more. Please believe I don't want to hurt you. I just wanted the pain to stop."

"Are you gonna try to hurt yourself again?"

"I..." She looked at his carefully neutral expression. "No?"

He grunted and hooked a finger into the cuff locked on the bed frame. "Until you're a little more sure about that, this stays put."

She rolled onto her back and turned away from him. She let the tears fall this time, as quietly as she could. At least he couldn't see her face.

Still, he made no move to leave. Until today, silence between them was always easy and comfortable. Now it made her stomach twist. The pain that lived in her chest squeezed until she thought she might suffocate.

The early evening light grew warmer, then began to darken into night, and still he sat with her.

Finally he moved. "Can I ask you something?"

She avoided his eyes and shrugged.

"What you said to me, before you..." He paused and shifted a little in his seat. "What you said before. Did you mean it?"

That she loved him? "Yes."

"So, you didn't just say it to get my gun?"

"No."

His hands moved nervously in his lap. "And when you kissed me, did you mean that, too?"

She turned on her side and examined his face, shadowed now in the dimming light. He looked like a little lost boy. Something fluttered in her chest – something that wasn't pain. A ghost of a smile touched her lips.

"Yes."

His tiny smile appeared again, and he settled back in his chair. The silence was easier this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **This fic came from a couple of things, number one being fear – whenever the show focuses this much on a character, they're pretty much doomed, which in season 4 would mean Carol. I have been avoiding the comics until the series ends – I don't want expectations. But I saw somewhere that the Carol from the comics killed herself early on. So this was me, trying to put those two things together. I apologize for even thinking about the possibility of them killing Carol.**


End file.
